


Sleepless Nights

by waywardriot



Category: Kingdom Hearts (Video Games)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Post-Canon, i just love this lil family to pieces, idk how to tag this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:47:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26819776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waywardriot/pseuds/waywardriot
Summary: Before Aqua can finish her sentence the way Ventus knows she will, another voice interrupts her, warm yet tired. “Can’t sleep?” it echoes.“Can’t sleep,” Ventus and Aqua chime in at the same time, looking back at Terra. Ventus can see the bags under his eyes, the way his shoulders are slumping, yet Terra still looks so kind—so familiar.It's hard for Ventus, Terra, and Aqua to find sleep in the wake of a war—but they're never alone together.
Relationships: Aqua & Terra & Ventus (Kingdom Hearts)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 32





	Sleepless Nights

**Author's Note:**

> this is my piece for the kh trios zine! i had a lot of fun writing the wayfinder trio and i love them!!

In the wake of a war, Ventus is beginning to wonder if he’ll ever get a restful night of sleep again.

Two hours ago, after adjusting to being home again, Terra and Aqua had ushered the three of them to bed, all in need of a good night’s sleep; however, try as he might, Ventus has woken up six times already, and assuredly more. The exhaustion goes deep down to his bones, but it’s something sleep can no longer remedy.

It’s really no wonder he can’t sleep, though, plagued with various thoughts and fears ( _what if today was just a dream?; what if I sleep for another decade?_ ), as he’d been expecting from the beginning.

Knowing it’s fruitless to continue laying in bed and staring at the wall, he sits up and slings his legs over the edge of his bed, and his eyes are instantly drawn to the spot where his missing half, where his darkness, where _Vanitas_ , once stood, beckoning him on to the beginning of his fateful journey. The memory weighs his heart down with grief and regrets, freezes his limbs and the blood in his veins with fear, but he forces himself to unfold out of bed joint by joint, the hair on the back of his neck rising despite himself.

As he tries to calm down, he has to remind himself: Terra is here; Aqua is here; Vanitas is not here; and Xehanort will _never_ be here again.

The wooden floor is chilly—but blissfully familiar—against his feet, so he tugs his shoes on and proceeds out of his room, shutting his door carefully, because it feels like something will break if he’s too loud in such a quiet, still place.

With a litany of reassurances echoing in his head, his feet lead him through the castle and out the front doors before he knows it, all the way to the summit where he can see the sky best. He faces towards the familiar lookout and watches the expanse of stars laid out above him; everything is as it should be, without a single light blinking out of existence. For years and years, this sight has passed alone, the seasons trickling by and the stars shifting night after night without Ventus’s notice as he slept away, utterly concealed.

But that castle is no longer his tomb—now, it’s a sanctuary once again.

Letting his eyes flutter shut, Ventus breathes in the feeling of his _home_ , fresh and alive and thriving. The only sound out here is the gentle chirping of crickets, a melody that he can’t quite follow along, but one that’s soothing all the same. Besides the barest wind that ruffles his bangs, everything is still and calm...

That is, until someone walks up behind him, the grass delicately rustling beneath their feet. In an instant, his heart rate spikes and fear nips at his ankles, as close as always—and then it immediately wanes when a soft voice rings out, reminding Ventus of care and safety.

“Can’t sleep?” asks Aqua. Gently, like she knows a sudden movement might startle him, she places a hand on top of his head and tousles his hair the way she always has, as if eleven years haven’t passed and changed everything.

Ventus tilts his head and offers her a wan smile for a second, but it’s then replaced with a characteristic pout. “No,” he huffs, the frustration in his voice evident. Folding his arms, he stares down at the dew on the grass, which sparkles almost like the stars, while he errantly toes at the ground. “I can’t stop thinking. It’s like my mind won’t calm down even though everything’s supposed to be okay…”

Aqua’s hand shifts from his hair, settling at the middle of his back as she urges him along with her until they’re sitting on the old stone bench, facing the blanketing sky. “I know,” she says sympathetically. “My heart keeps telling me that…”

In that moment, Ventus feels the slightest weight of Aqua’s decade in the Realm of Darkness hitching a ride on his back. If only he could actually share that burden, take it in his arms and hold it close to his heart. He knows without a doubt that she would do the same in an instant, and his heart aches with love and concern for her.

Before Aqua can finish her sentence the way Ventus knows she will, another voice interrupts her, warm yet tired. “Can’t sleep?” it echoes.

“Can’t sleep,” Ventus and Aqua chime in at the same time, looking back at Terra. Ventus can see the bags under his eyes, the way his shoulders are slumping, yet Terra still looks so kind—so familiar.

Despite the lines set in his face that speak of restlessness and fatigue, Terra’s expression is fond. “Looks like we all have the same problem.”

Aqua motions Terra over and Ventus pats the space on the bench next to him as he scoots over to provide him a little more room to sit. Without hesitation, Terra joins them, pushing Ventus over further to squish him in between the two of them.

“Terra!” Ventus complains, and though he elbows Terra lightly in retaliation, he still gives him the admiring smile that he always has, constantly looking up to his best friend, his brother.

In response, Terra simply messes up Ventus’s hair in the same way Aqua did and returns a smile that turns wistful. “This is like when we were younger, huh?” he says, reminiscent. “I don’t know if you remember, Ven, but sometimes you would get bad nightmares and Aqua and I would sit up with you when you couldn’t sleep.”

Ventus’s early years in the Land of Departure are fuzzy to him, frayed at the edges from sleep and trauma alike. He purses his lips as he thinks, trying his best to remember something, and then he lets out a quiet _‘ah…’_ “I think I remember… I was embarrassed about getting so scared, but you guys were always there…” He chuckles and shakes his head. “I wish things were still that simple.”

Aqua wraps an arm around Ventus’s shoulders and squeezes tight, Terra joining her to complete the embrace. “Things _will_ be,” she encourages, looking to the sky. “One day, at least. Then we’ll have sleepovers like we used to.”

Oh, how impatient Ventus is for things to be normal, but there’s still so much to do. He clenches his fists in his lap, holding onto the memory of Sora as tightly as he can. Then, his eyes are drawn to the left, where Master Eraqus’s Keyblade is now keeping their wayfinders safe and together.

That should be symbolic, how their master served to protect them and shield them from pain for as long as he could, but…

“His apology wasn’t enough, was it?” Ventus asks out of the blue, looking away and back down again as he folds his hands together. He goes to speak again but falters, a sense of contrition sweeping over him for criticizing a dead man—and their former master, no less.

“It wasn’t,” Aqua agrees, her fingers idly smoothing at the ends of Ventus’s hair. It’s a repetitive motion that serves to soothe Ventus, to remind him that she’s here: tangible, permanent, steady. Without her saying it, he knows she feels that similar guilt.

“I want it to be enough, but he still…”

“He did unforgivable things,” Terra fills in for him, his eyes filled with something incomprehensible as he stares out towards the sky. And similarly, Ventus knows the event he’s viewing in his head—the time Master Eraqus almost killed Ventus and went for Terra all the same. Their master’s greatest sin, something that no amount of loyalty and devotion will erase.

“I do miss him”—Ventus clenches his hands into fists once again, overcome by a painful wave of emotions that make him squeeze his eyes shut—“but it wasn’t fair. None of it was.”

“He had a job as our master, and he failed us. It’s okay to think that,” Aqua tells him, and he has the feeling she’s saying it for her sake just as much as his and Terra’s. “Even he knew he did wrong. All we can do is lift each other up.”

“We know you don’t like us treating you like a kid, Ven, but we still want to protect you,” Terra says, faint amusement in his voice. “That’s what he told me to do.” He sounds solid, resolute.

That breaks the tension and makes Ventus laugh a little, reminiscing on all his petulant arguments that now seem so insignificant. Still, though—he’s stubborn and won’t stand for this. “Hey!” he says, sounding mock-affronted. “Maybe he told you to take care of us, but I think we need to take care of _you_.”

Terra echoes his laugh, dispelling some of the bad mood that came over them with the change in topic. “I always depend on you guys. And don’t forget, Aqua’s the official Keyblade Master here.”

“Oh, pfft,” Aqua scoffs, waving a hand. “That doesn’t mean you can slack! You have to be responsible—and Ven, too.”

“Gimme a break,” Ventus says, displacing Terra and Aqua as he folds his arms behind his head and leans back. “We just fought in a war. I think we deserve to rest for a little.”

“Not too long,” Aqua warns, the picture of the strict older sister that Ventus has missed more than he thought. “We still have responsibilities.”

The relief that Ventus feels is almost all-consuming, striking him in the chest and bowling him over. This is what he’s been missing for so long—comfort, safety, a true, strong foundation that will keep him from drowning. With his friends by his side, he knows things will be okay; things will still hurt, still sting and ache and remind him of all that they lost, but never again will they lose each other. He knows that with certainty.

Grinning at Terra and Aqua, Ventus almost misses the faint movement in the sky, so he leans forward, hands on his knees, to get a better look. Like he expected, there’s another flash—it’s a meteor shower, just like the last peaceful night they had spent together. 

“The stars marked the end of our life together before… but I think these mark the beginning of a new one,” Aqua says, chin tipped back as she stares up at the sky.

“Make a wish,” Terra replies warmly. 

At the exact same instant, they all take each other’s hands, Ventus in the middle and holding on tight. He knows exactly what he’s going to wish for: things to stay like this, peaceful and together and right. No more war, no more battles, no more Xehanort. And even without his friends saying their wishes out loud, he knows that they’re both wishing for the same thing as him just as fervently, Aqua and Terra’s firm grips speaking volumes.

Of course, there’s still work to be done, someone to be brought home, but for just a minute, Ventus lets himself be selfish; he allows himself to forget everything outside of this world, nothing but his strongest friendships surrounding him. Soon, things will change—but for now, his only concern is getting to sleep.

“I think I’m finally feeling tired,” Ventus says, punctuated by a very telling yawn. 

Aqua’s smile is fond, so fond, and from her delicate laugh, Ventus can tell that she’s still seeing him as that sleepy little boy, and he’s willing to bet that Terra is, too. 

He spent so long protesting against being seen as younger than them, but right now, it might be okay. They’re all out of sync with their bodies, a decade having trickled by while their physical forms never aged a day, and perhaps Ventus would like to be a kid again for one more night. 

“Well, let’s get you into bed, then.” Aqua stands up and yawns as well. “All of us, actually.”

“Yeah. We’ll all see each other tomorrow morning,” Terra says earnestly, stretching his arms up to the sky, where stars are still falling. 

“Promise?” Ventus can’t help but ask as he stands up. The wish he made earlier has settled deep in his heart, taken root in his bones, but he trusts the word of his friends more than anything in the worlds. 

Again, three sets of eyes are drawn to where their wayfinders glitter under the falling stars, never to be apart again. 

“Promise.”


End file.
